


oh, oh, oh, it's magic

by bowlingfornerds



Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witches, F/M, Halloween, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always been something strange about the Blakes, and Clarke's determined to figure it out. She doesn't actually believe they're magic, but they have a large amount of spell books, and well - she wants answers for those, too.</p><p>Best Friend's A Witch AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, oh, oh, it's magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be the only Halloween-y thing I'll ever write. I don't celebrate Halloween, nor have I ever. But I was reading a Witch AU last night and kind of wanted to make Bellamy into one. So here we go.

Clarke had always felt strange about the Blakes. Not only because each member of the family was somehow blessed with looks more beautiful than the last – but because there was something odd about them… something _off_.

She first thought as much when she tried Aurora’s cookies, at age six. They were hidden on the top shelf of the cupboard, near the back, and she had to stand on the counter to reach them while Bellamy stood on the kitchen floor, hands hovering about her in case she fell. His twin sister, Octavia, stood look out by the door. The cookies, by the way, were the greatest she’d ever tasted, but came from a box that had a skull on it, with a ‘DO NOT EAT’ sign – and for the next three days she was absolutely sure she could hear people’s thoughts. It may have only been when she was really, really close to them, but she heard them all the same.

When she was nine, there was a storm. It was awful; practically a hurricane beating through Ark, and Clarke was holed up in the Blakes house, because her parents were away for a charity benefit. The hurricane had been predicted for weeks, and Aurora had gone around the house, only to discover that if that storm hit, there was no way her house would be left standing; not with the weak structure it had. Yet, when the storm came, Clarke watched through their windows as telephone poles swung over, and roof tiles flew through the wind; but all the Blakes received was a heavy rainfall on their house. She even stepped out into the back garden, briefly, only to become drenched – but there wasn’t even a slight breeze.

Then, when she was thirteen, Clarke read the spines of their books as she waited, her eyes dancing across old books with foreign writing etched in gold. A couple had English titles, such as ‘Spells For Beginners’ or ‘Potion Brewery’ – but Bellamy entered the room suddenly and she jumped away from the offending bookcase like it had burnt her.

So, like Clarke said – the Blakes were weird. They were her favourite people, but weird all the same.

And then Bellamy seemed exceptionally angry when Jake Griffin, Clarke’s father, died when she was fifteen – like he could have possibly prevented it, and then even more so when his own mother died a year later. The Blakes moved in with their birth father, Marcus Kane, across town, and suddenly Clarke noticed that they were more agitated, more secretive.

Which, for best friends, wasn’t something she liked.

“What’s up?” Clarke asked, pushing open Bellamy’s bedroom door. His head immediately shot up from where he sat on the bed, and she noticed his hand slip something under the covers. But he put on a smile and stood up.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he nodded, moving towards her. Clarke shrugged, settling into his desk chair.

“Marcus didn’t either – practically flew out of his skin,” she replied easily. Bellamy was hiding something, she could tell. Clarke really wanted to know what it was. He scoffed though, shaking his head. She’d always thought that Bellamy was beautiful; for as long as she could remember. But she felt distracted now; like focusing on his freckles or jaw line wasn’t the best use of her time.

“Did we have plans or are you bored?” He asked next, adjusting an ornament on his shelf.

“Bored.” Clarke span on the chair. “Besides, it’s Halloween soon.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Clarke shrugged, standing and stepping over to his bookshelf.

“Well, I think we need to do something spooky – in theme?” She thumbed along the spines of the books; Bellamy kept them all in order of author, and she knew that the strange magic-sounding ones would be a particular area. Clarke couldn’t help but notice that there was a gap, where one of the spell books used to sit.

“Right…” Bellamy dragged the word out, watching carefully as she slipped out a book.

“It’s going to be dark soon,” she told him, nodding towards the only window in the room, above his bed. “I think we should perform spells.” Clarke said this easily, and glanced up to see him stiffen a little.

“Spells?” He asked incredulously. “Why would we do that?”

“It’ll be fun.”

“It’s for children,” he complained. Clarke rolled her eyes, pulling out a potions book alongside the _Spells For Beginners_ that she had in her hand already.

“You have loads of these books,” she retorted. “It’s obviously not for children.”

“I’ve had them since I was a kid,” Bellamy shrugged in response.

“They look pretty well read,” Clarke shrugged, traipsing out of the room. Behind her, she heard him sigh, annoyed.

“Where are you going?”

“To get O! She needs to join in.” Clarke didn’t bother knocking on Octavia’s door either, just pushed it open to find her sitting on her bed, old shoddy laptop perched on her legs.

“Come on,” Clarke smiled. O raised her eyebrows.

“What now?”

“We’re going to perform spells!” Clarke grinned widely, turning and sauntering happily down the hall way. She didn’t really believe that her friends were magic – but she wanted explanations to why they had so many spell books (even if they were for children) and she just hoped that it would tie in with the explanation to why they were such an odd family. She heard O shuffle out of her room as she reached the stairs, hissing at her brother.

“Did you tell her?” Clarke was sure she heard. But there wasn’t an answer and Clarke kept going down the steps until she reached the ground floor. Marcus just raised an eyebrow at her as she wandered through his kitchen, taking the torch from the utility drawer with a nod.

“And where might you be going?” He asked slowly. Clarke nodded towards the twins, just entering the kitchen.

“We’re going to perform spells and see if we can kill people with them,” she announced solidly. Marcus only looked mildly perplexed while the twins cringed.

“Fine,” he sighed. “If you do, hide the body.” She nodded and promised to do so, before leaving out the back door and moving out into the garden. Marcus’ house was much bigger than Aurora’s, so the garden was larger, with a big tree in one corner and a conservatory coming off the back of the house. Clarke wandered out as the light dimmed, until she found herself under the awning of branches.

“What are we doing?” Bellamy asked wearily, running a hand down his face. Clarke plopped onto the ground, crossing her legs.

“Spells,” she shrugged. “Murder, maybe.” She patted the grass next to her and the twins only glanced at one another before sitting down, too. For a little while, they watched as Clarke thumbed through the pages, mentioning spells every now and again that might be fun to try, before Octavia sighed audibly.

“They’re not going to work,” she announced. O was leaning back, her palms pressed into the grass, propping her up. She tipped her head back and her long, brown hair fell backwards, too, gently swaying in the breeze.

“Then there won’t be an issue,” Clarke shrugged.

“You think they’re _going_ to work?” Octavia asked next, looking up now, her eyes narrowed. Clarke just looked back down at the pages.

“Maybe. It’s October, spooky time of year. Might as well try it.”

“Wouldn’t the spells work better on Halloween?” Bellamy questioned. Clarke grinned.

“Ah, so you think they’ll work.”

“No, I just think if you’re going by the assumption that Halloween will make the spells work, then-“

“Aha!” Clarke announced, interrupting Bellamy’s reply. She clicked on the torch, pointing it at the page. “It’s a simple spell. One for growing a flower.” Only a glance towards the Blake siblings told her that they were looking at her, amused but annoyed. Clarke looked back down to the book. “It says that a seed isn’t even required – but with sheer magic, a flower can grow. Here – _chee-cha en doo-la op, flin-ga-oo, fos-tam_.” Clarke looked up, to the area in front of them, and frowned. She cleared her throat, trying again. This time, she straightened her back, holding out a hand in front of her, like the person in the diagram.

“ _Chee-cha en doo-la op, flin-ga-oo fos-tam_.” Clarke glanced around again; to Octavia’s rye expression and Bellamy’s mild interest.

“It’s not working,” O told her in a sing-song voice.

“Obviously,” Clarke frowned. She flipped a page. “Okay – summoning light.” She flipped her hand open, so her palm was now facing upwards, before speaking. Clarke strained her eyes at first for the words; the sky was getting dark now, so she held the torch under her arm, pointing at the book. “ _Geda hap-o-tay, hod-nes non-too._ ” No light shone from her hand, like the image in the book and she sighed.

“Not magic?” O asked.

“Here, you try.” She passed the book over and Octavia sighed, sitting up. She held out her hand like the woman in the diagram and spoke the words. Not so surprisingly, she said them more eloquently than Clarke did, as if she’d said them before: “ _Geda hapotai, hodnes nontu._ ” Still, nothing shone from her hand, and she raised a pointed eyebrow at the blonde. (Clarke was admittedly a little disappointed that the Blakes weren’t magic – there was something fishy about them, but magic might have just been an interest.) “Nothing, Clarky.”

“Fine, Bellamy?” He sighed, looking a little more apprehensive than his sister, and Clarke studied their wary expressions. Bellamy held his hand out weakly, like he wasn’t trying, slumping over the book.

 “ _Gea hap-o-tay, hod-ness_ _nonta_.” He was worse at this than his sister, but still no light shone so Clarke frowned. “We’re not magic, Princess.”

“Can we try the murder spell, then?” She asked with a grin. Bellamy raised his eyebrows, amused.

“You think there’s a murder spell in,” he flicked the cover of the book over. “ _Spells For Beginners_?” She shrugged, taking the book from his hand and skipping to the index.

“Maybe. Even beginners might need to kill someone.”

-

They tried a lot of spells; Octavia eventually getting into it and putting on mystical voices, looking deadly serious as she waved her hands about. Clarke and Bellamy’s pronunciations weren’t as good as the Blake sister, but it became more and more fun as they kept going.

It had been dark for a while, and the torch was starting to flicker when they returned inside. O waved her hand wearily and Clarke followed Bellamy to his bedroom. She settled onto his bed as he smiled, turning towards the bookcase.

“So, what was the point in us doing that?” He asked, looking at the cover of the book and finding the right place to put it on the shelf. Clarke shrugged, her hand slowly wandering down the bedsheet, and under the duvet.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” Bellamy nodded reluctantly.

“It weirdly was,” he agreed. Under the sheets, Clarke’s hand closed around the book he’d hidden earlier, when she arrived, and she moved it slowly out, glancing at the cover. _Advanced Spell Work_ , the title read. Clarke pursed her lips in thought, sliding it back to where she’d found it in time for Bellamy to turn back to her. “Why were you so insistent about the spells, though?”

“I don’t know – part of me hoped you were magic, or something?” He hesitated briefly before plastering an amused look on his face.

“What, like a warlock?”

“I was thinking wizard,” she shrugged. Bellamy sat down on the bed next to her, both of their backs leant up against the head board.

“Wizard, me, _right_.” Clarke leant her head on his shoulder for a moment, before she felt the weight of his tip onto her. “I guess all those spells wore you out?” She nodded, shutting her eyes and humming. “You okay to sleep here tonight?” Clarke just hummed again. “Okay. I’ll find you some clothes.” Bellamy moved to stand up, when Clarke’s eyes opened. She shot out her hand, grasping his wrist, stopping him.

“Bell,” she said slowly as he turned to look at her. “If you were magic, you’d tell me, right?” He paused before nodding.

“Of – of course, Clarke.” She nodded.

“Good, because I would tell you if I were magic. It’s what best friends do; they tell each other their secrets. And we’re best friends, right, Bell?” Bellamy hesitated before nodding again.

“Yeah, yeah we are.” She smiled.

“Good.” Clarke dropped her hand from his wrist, settling further into the bed even though she’d have to get up and change. Bellamy stood by the side of the bed, alternating between staring at her and into space, for a moment or two. Then he coughed and sighed.

“Fine, Clarke.” She looked at him expectantly. “You were pronouncing it wrong, and you’re not magic.” She raised her eyebrows, confused. Bellamy held out a hand, palm pointed downwards, towards the bed. “ _chicha en dula op, flingau, fostam_.” Immediately, a flower grew from the cotton of the duvet; a stem poking out first and suddenly shooting upwards; leaves poking out and petals spinning outwards from a bud. Clarke watched, captivated and wide eyed, staring at the flower in front of her eyes. She sat up, reaching forward and gentling running her finger along a single petal before snatching her hand back.

“ _You’re magic_ ,” she breathed, looking to Bellamy, watching her carefully. His dark eyes held fear and he breathed slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You’re magic,” she repeated, this time moving onto her knees.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I am.” A smile grew on her face, before she jumped off of the bed.

“This is so great!” She cried happily, moving around the bed to reach him. She gripped his arms, grinning. “I always knew there was something about your family! I wasn’t convinced it’s actually magic – but God, _it is_.” Bellamy sighed with relief, a smile slowly forming across his face.

“You’re not freaked out.”

“Of course not – well, actually, yes, majorly. But I’ll get over it because my best friend is magic!” He laughed then, and Clarke did too; somehow filled with this elation over something so absurd. _Her best friend is magic._ “Have you ever used magic on me?” She asked suddenly. He shook his head.

“No, no I wouldn’t.” She nodded slowly.

“Not even like a love potion or anything?” He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.

“No, Clarke.” She nodded, approvingly, the smile only growing bigger.

“Huh, I guess it’s just me then.” He watched her for a second as the cogs turned over in his head, and the sudden look of acknowledgement made her grin. But she didn’t do anything but move back to the bed, sitting next to the flower that he grew from the duvet. He stammered at first, before moving to sit next to her, on the other side of the flower.

“Clarke,” he breathed, as if he wanted to say something important. But he didn’t; just stared and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear whilst she looked at the pink petals of the flower that he made from nothing.

“Bellamy,” she smiled in reply. They said nothing, but the eventual clash of their lips came all the same. She couldn’t explain how they got to that point; just that there was a look in his eyes that she liked and suddenly his hand was cupping her neck and she was breathing him in, gasping into his lips and letting his tongue roam her mouth, as if this had always been their way. They started off hurried, fighting, like it was a battle for dominance, but then they slowed; gentle tugs on her hair and careful bites on his lower lip. She knew she could get used to this.

-

Later, they laid in his bed like they always had; the flower now moved to his bedside table. Clarke fingered the fabric of her t-shirt – or, well, the one he was loaning her – and looked over to find him doing the same.

“Does this mean you’re actually a wizard?” Clarke asked, amused. Bellamy shook his head.

“Witch,” he replied. Clarke furrowed her brow.

“I thought only women were witches.” Bellamy sighed, rolling his eyes.

“In my family, there’s been one witch in every generation for at least two hundred years. The first born’s always a girl, and the first born always gets the powers.”

“But you’re the older sibling,” Clarke pointed out. He nodded, turning to face her, so she did the same.

“The way I remember it, Octavia was going to come out first, but then I made the executive decision to beat her to the punch – gaining the powers, instead.” Clarke laughed.

“You were a foetus,” she told him, smiling. “There is no way you could remember that.”

“Not true,” he replied. “I’m a witch. If I say that I can remember being born, then I can remember it.” She rolled her eyes, letting him tug her closer so her lips were only centimetres away from his.

“What a _magical_ memory that must have been,” she drawled.

“Ha, ha, Griffin,” he said into her lips. “Very funny – now kiss me so I can forget you ever said that.” And she did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please click the kudos button and talk to me in the comments - I'd love to hear what you think!


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